Lighthouse
by Potnix
Summary: Where is Morales? And where will he really be in the midst of the loss of his wife Miranda? And his children? How can a group so small and fradgile survive in a world so big and broken? Maybe they can't. Maybe that lighthouse in the blue is their only answer.


_AN: Hey guys, this is just oneshot I decided to write at five in the morning. The basis of this is how Morales's family turned out after they left the camp. And of course, this is from Morales's POV. And the names of the family members are real! I swear. So, enjoy, and review my little ducklings :))_

_xxx_

**Lighthouse**

People say that the ending isn't any more important than the moments leading up to it. Before things were like how they are now, I never understood the true meaning of it. You don't understand death until having faced it yourself. After looking death straight in the eye every day of your life, it seems to make sense. After exposing my family to what's out there just makes me reminiscence about the days before, sitting on the porch while the kids played in the yard, with a sense of innocence glimmering in their round eyes, my wife leaning her head in the crook of my neck, the sun shining brightly on the fresh, green grass. And in such a short period of time, all of it went away. The scent of flowers and home cooked meals took a sharp detour replacing itself with rotting flesh and salty tears.

"Do you think Mom went to that lighthouse in the sky?" My daughter asked me yesterday afternoon. We thought we could handle it on our own, leaving the camp. We thought we could find safety elsewhere... with family, but apparently God had other plans for us. My two kids and I had been residing in the back of our car, torn blankets and old ponchos keeping us warm. I wouldn't have been surprised if my children had become half-deaf from all the gunshots that had to be dealt.

Sometimes I would wonder if there was any point in bothering to last until the end. I wondered if maybe my children and I would be better off if we'd just...

But I always decided against that. What was the point in not sticking it out until the end. I guess, once someone as important as Miranda left us, we gave up. We thought God had given up on the world. The only faith that still lie within us was the small sliver of hope of waking up and having everything be a dream.

My eyes opened late last night to a clattering noise on the mossy car window. 'Another walker' I thought. Man, was I dumb... I pulled out that damn pistol that I had expected to get me through everything. I knew that I was going to have to find a way to go buy more shells, considering I only had five left. But at that moment, I felt that maybe, just maybe, It would have been okay to waste one, considering blunt objects weren't in my reach at the moment. My tired brain seemed to have gotten the best of me. I fumbled around, pulling it from the glove box, turning to see Louis wake from his unrestful slumber.

"Cover your ears." I demanded, knowing Eliza would also wake. I never realized where my mind was at the time, but after throwing a small car pillow over her ear, The window crashed open, the small shards digging into my exposed arms as I unintentionally hit the horn. This caused Eliza to wake with a start. At first, I imagined it was only going to be one or two walkers, but I never expected this. I never expected that a herd of walkers had been less than a meter away from my children as we slept. One layer between them. One metal door. If I'd had been asleep just a minute longer, they would have been gone.

But even that couldn't help it.

Cold eyes and dead stares bored through my skin, and sent cold blood through my body. Louis had an arm linked to my shirt, clinging for dear life. And there was nothing else to do. Rotted teeth made their way to me, and I used my only safety. I shot.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

And Five.

Five walkers down. Mission accomplished. One thing I hadn't expected to find, where about ten more standing by the back of the car. Louis looked over to me.

"Papa, shoot 'em!" He cried into my sleeve. I knew that this was the end of the line for us. Better now than when the camp got overrun. He kept crying though. He kept shouting into my shirt, hoping that everything would go away. I put a hand on his shulder, and Eliza clung to my free hand. There was nothing left. And as fast as it took to use up the shells, one crawled through the back window, but I fought it off. Time was running out, and I didn't want my children to suffer. I looked in the glovebox, under the seats, and finally, I found a couple shells. Just enough. Just enough to end it all. Three small bullets. But just because they we small, didn't mean that they didn't have an impact. Louis stopped crying and tried to crawl to the front seat, pulling his sister behind him, and in that small span of time, I had reloaded the pistol with the finishing bullets.

"Looks like God got the best of us." I said, feeling stinging tears run down my face. Louis and Eliza remained quiet, as if knowing what we were about to do.

Miranda, we'll be home soon.

That one thought got me thinking. It got me thinking about how when the kids would ask Miranda if they cuiold run outside to play, she would always say, 'Come inside soon. Don't be late for supper.' And I knew, that once I ended our lives, we wouldn't have to worry anymore. Miranda and I could be together, and I could watch TV with a beer in my hand, as Miranda would say, 'Don't be late for supper.'

And I knew we wouldn't be late.

The walker edged closer, and I almost couldn't bring myself to do it. Two shots. Two shots was all I needed.

After that, I forever understood the qoute, about how endings aren't any more important than the moments before it. You give up the things you thought you'd regret, and your life flashes before your eyes. The greatest moments of my life played in my mind as time slowed.

Meeting my beautiful wife, having my wonderful children, being able to have laid in a warm bed before all this, drinking beers while watching the game, those are memories that will never be forgotten.

I lifted the barrel, and before I pulled the trigger, I shared my thoughts with my children as tears stained their faces. I whispered low, almost inaudible, but was somehow still able to be heard.

"Well kids, we're going to the lighthouse. Once you get there, you'll be able to play as long as you want."

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

And One.

A smile appeared on my face.

"Don't be late for supper."


End file.
